


Lessons not Learned

by Aoishi



Series: Possession [2]
Category: the GazettE
Genre: Hints at demonic possession, M/M, Minor Violence, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 15:26:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16537220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aoishi/pseuds/Aoishi
Summary: --- and so a deal was made and Kouyou became Uruha and still, he never listened.





	Lessons not Learned

There was a wolf at Ruki’s feet.

It lay there, harmless as a large golden retriever, gnawing on a bone Uruha knew wasn’t animal. It made his stomach churn, made something dark laugh wild and wicked in the depths of his chest. _It_ knew that wolf, knew the shape it took once the moon vanished from the sky.

“How do I get this to stop?” Uruha asked, instead of questioning the wolf; Ruki wouldn’t answer anyway.

A smile curled Ruki’s mouth and he sipped his tea—-something minty and full of ginger. “You can’t stop what’s always been a part of you.”

Uruha really should start listening.

 

X.x

 

He was young.

He was foolish (something he would always carry with him).

He paid the price for that foolishness.

Blood was always the price. Would always be something he paid and he paid it in full, sprawled across a bed old and moth eaten, soaked through with blood that seeped and slithered from the long, jagged gash along his neck.

Love wasn’t supposed to hurt like this.

_I don’t want to die!_

But love was pain and from that pain, from that desire to live, something bloomed in his chest, something old and wicked; something made of cunning smiles and jagged teeth.

Something full of too sweet promises that drew a whimpering gurgle from a throat too abused to make noise.

_I don’t want to die!_

And so, a deal was made.

And Kouyou became Uruha and still, he never listened.

 

X.x

 

There was a wolf at Ruki’s feet.

Smoke drifted soft and lazy from the smoldering tip of Ruki’s cigarette and all Uruha could taste upon his tongue was ash and regret and decay. Hunger gnawed at his bones, thrummed within his chest, beat against the cage of his ribs and suddenly, he was tired.

So, so tired.

“Make it stop.” Ruki’s lips curled up at the corner and recklessly, Uruha grabbed him, curled his hands in the collar of Ruki’s shirt, drew him close, could taste the menthol on Ruki’s breath, feel the wolf rise to its feet, rumble soft and low and dangerous in the back of its throat.

Uruha wasn’t frightened.

He stopped fearing death long ago.

“Make. It. Stop.” Then softer, the iron grip slacking upon Ruki’s shirt. “Please. I’m begging you.”

Something old and powerful flashed in Ruki’s eyes. Something that the hunger within knew and craved and bared its wicked throat to.

“You never listen do you?” Ruki curled his fingers around his jaw, traced the bone with fingertips too smooth, too familiar; traced the skin of his jaw and the flutter of his pulse with a longing Uruha could taste, could scent in the air thick and vivid.

Shaking his head, Ruki kissed him then—-soft, tender; a butterfly caught in a spider’s web: “You can’t make it stop.”

Chaos would always breed chaos, wouldn’t it?

 

X.x

 

Aoi’s fingers were rough as they smoothed along his shoulders; callous Uruha knew by heart catching on his skin, dragging along it like the most tender caress of sandpaper.

Love wasn’t supposed to hurt.

It wasn’t supposed to cut him open, spill everything he was from his chest and onto sheet that maybe, once upon a time, had been white. It was supposed to be tender and kind, full of a warmth Uruha couldn’t remember much of anymore.

—— yet, Aoi’s lips were soft along his skin; a tickle of a feather along the back of his arm, the ghost of a warmth that almost made him feel whole.

Love wasn’t supposed to hurt.

In Aoi’s arms, it didn’t.

It was kind and tender, full of the sweetness of a baby’s breath.

In Aoi’s arms, Uruha found something he never thought he would have back. In Aoi’s arms, he found his heart, found a fairytale he had long stopped believing in.

Love wasn’t supposed to hurt.

Uruha shifted and hunger bloomed thick and heady in his veins and Aoi smiled, traced the tip of a rough finger over his lower lip.

How easy it’d be to part his lips, rip that finger away and swallow it whole.

“I love you.” He whispered instead, smoothing his fingers through Aoi’s hair, brushing it back from his face. “I love you.”

If only that was enough…

If only.


End file.
